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... e in the bed, small traps. What in the fuck is this woman doing?" Atlas muttered under his breath, his golden eyes flashing with a mix of irritation and paranoia as he hurled the glass of juice across the room. It shattered against the wall, spraying shards of crystal and sticky liquid that clung to the gilded surfaces like an omen.

From now on, Sansa would handle everything—his meals, his tea, even the damned water he washed his hands with. No one else. Not a single soul but her.

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